


Not the Good Kind of Hurt

by Medeafic



Series: Captain Spanky Series [6]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Biting, Brief fisticuffs, M/M, Mild D/s, Sado-Masochism, Snowballing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-07
Updated: 2011-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/pseuds/Medeafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris has a bad week, makes assumptions and acts like a jerk.  Fortunately, Zach is a little better at human relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Good Kind of Hurt

Chris is having a bad week.  

He’s just flown back in to LAX from shooting endless pick-ups in Hicksville, Nowhere, and was seated on the plane between a screaming toddler and a girl who wouldn’t quit hitting on him.  The airline lost his luggage and said they’d send it on, but Chris is dubious at the prospect they’ll ever find it.  And he _knows_ he should have carried-on, but he didn’t, because he took too many clothes with him in the first place, and yeah, it’s all his own fucking fault.  

And he’s spent the last six days talking about Zachary Quinto so much that the entire cast and crew of this stupid-fucking-no-doubt-direct-to-DVD-movie started mocking him.  Even by the third morning, every group he approached at breaks would call out things in an approximation of Chris’s inflection.  “This one time, Zach made falafel, and it was _awesome_!”, “One time Zach wore a hat like that, it was _awesome_!”, or “Zach took me to yoga one time, and it’s really _awesome_!”  By the last day, they were calling him Spock-cocked - to his _face_.

 _Okay_ , Chris finally thought, after he’d pretended for the fifth time to think it was funny.  _I fucking get it_. 

He’s had enough.  He’s decided to try to maintain his sanity, and talk to Zach.  And see if they can get together.  Officially.

He’s _really_ nervous.

Chris has taken a cab straight from the airport to Zach without calling ahead, and is hoping to have some one on one time, even though he’s unannounced.  But when he arrives, he’s surprised to hear loud music and raucous conversation coming from Zach’s place.  On a Thursday night.  He knocks, loudly.  Zach flings the door open with a not-exactly-welcoming smile, but it gains a little sincerity when he sees Chris.

“Hi!” he says.  “What are you doing here?  You’re supposed to be in Ohio.”

“Yeah, I was,” Chris says.  “I’m back early.  A bunch of my scenes got bumped up.”  Chris suspected at the time it was because people were tiring of his Zach-obsession, but he’s pretty sure that was just paranoia on his part.  But he’s already feeling uneasy.  He can see a number of men in Zach’s apartment.  Most of them seem to be wearing leather.  Two are wearing collars.  Zach is wearing jeans and one of Chris’s cardigans, but it doesn’t help.

“Oh,” Zach says.

“So.  I’m back.  Early,” Chris says again.

“Cool,” Zach says.  But he doesn’t look like it’s cool.  “Come in.  We were just.  I don’t know.  Hanging out.”  Chris looks over his arm again at the crowd. 

“You have company,” Chris says.  

“Yeah.”  Chris has never seen Zach look like this before.  If he didn’t know better, it would look like guilt.  And he’s beginning to think maybe he doesn’t know better.  That’s when he sees Anton, on the couch, looking at him.  Anton is the only familiar face in the room.

“Hey, it’s Captain Spanky,” he says, smiling.

Chris finds himself propelled forward by his own treacherous feet, pushing past Zach.  He drops his keys and wallet on the coffee table.  “Hi Anton,” he says coolly.  “How are you?”  

Anton doesn’t get a chance to answer before one of the other men says, “Hey, aren’t you –”

“This is Chris,” Zach says firmly, pushing him slightly behind his body.  “Chris, this is – everyone.”  Chris feels eyes appraising him.  But he’s focused on Anton right now.  He takes the time to notice that Anton has what would be universally considered a mouth for fucking.  Anton is starting to look a little uncomfortable under Chris’s stare.

“So, what brings _you_ here?” he asks Chris.

“I think that’s my line,” Chris says, and his tone is more snarly than he meant it.  But only a little.  Anton blinks.  He puts down his drink on the floor next to his foot and looks at Zach, questioning.  Chris turns to Zach too.  “What is this?” he asks him.

“You’ll have to excuse us,” Zach says vaguely to the room.  He takes Chris firmly by the arm, walks him out to the bedroom.  “It’s nothing.  You don’t know the full story,” he says in a low tone.

Chris laughs, but it sounds more like a hack.  “Right.  Sure.”  Over Zach’s shoulder he can see the hole, _still_ not fixed, that he punched into that damn wall.

“Just shut up and let me explain,” Zach says.  The door is still open, just a crack.  Chris hears someone in the other room hiss, “ _Shhhhhhh_ ,” and that’s when his temper really flares.

“No, please, don’t bother,” he says loudly, for the benefit of the peanut crunchers.  “I get it.”

“No, you really don’t.”  The fact that Zach is still talking quietly just makes Chris angrier.  

“Really, I do,” he says, even louder.  

“Chris –”

“Jesus, Quinto, it’s fine!  I get it!”  Chris is shouting, and he just can’t shut up.  His frustration from the whole week has got the better of him.  “I get it, _I get it_!”

Zach pulls him closer, his fingers digging into Chris’s arm.  “Can you just be quiet for _a minute_?”

“Quiet?  Okay.”  Chris jabs a finger right into Zach’s sternum.  He’s poking hard enough to leave marks.  He knows this because of everything he and Zach have ever done, everything that left him with bruises the next morning.  

“ _Fuck.  You_.”  He’s hissed the words, but he knows he’s loud enough for the eavesdroppers, because he hears a voice from the other room.

“– one of Zach’s boys?”  A laugh.  And that’s it.  Chris totally loses it.  He pulls back, takes a swing at Zach.  

Zach catches his arm before it connects, and stabs him back with two sharp fingers, right in the solar plexus.  Chris looks up at him from the floor, where he’s landed with a soft “ _Oof._ ”  He can’t breathe properly.  Zach says nothing, just threads his hands through his own hair and squeezes his head like his brain hurts.  He doesn’t look at Chris.  They’re stuck like that for what seems like an hour.  Then Chris hears Zach breathe out, shaky.

“Could you just,” he says to Chris coldly.  “Just.  Go.  Get out.”

Chris has never felt such an overwhelming urge to make Zach hurt, and wonders if this is how Zach feels most of the time.

“You fucking psychopath,” he spits.  He sees Zach flinch, and feels a horrible satisfaction that at least one of his punches tonight has landed.  

“He’s a fucking psychopath!” he screams at the crowd on his way out, just so they know, too.

It’s only when he’s walked home that he realizes he left his keys at Zach’s place.  

  
 *******

  
About two hours later, Chris is still slumped against his own locked door in the dark, feeling like complete shit.  He’s seen neighbors come and go; some have stepped over him on the way to the stairwell.  Most have avoided him, going the long way round like he’s a potential drug addict looking to mug them.

He still hurts in the middle.

He hears slow footsteps coming up the stairs, and he prays that it’s not.  But it is.  Zach appears, stops halfway up.  Chris looks away.  “You left your wallet and keys,” Zach says flatly.  Chris hears a jingle as he digs in his pocket.  “Here.”

Chris just puts his hands over his face.  He’s sure Zach’s just going to throw them at him.  Or maybe at his feet if he’s lucky.  Either way, he’s certain Zach wants nothing at all to do with him ever again.  But Zach comes up the steps, stands next to him.  His sneakers are unlaced, Chris notices through his fingers.

They stay like that, for a long time.  Then Chris reaches out slowly to clutch at Zach’s ankle.  He hears Zach take a long, deep breath.  “Get up,” he says.  When Chris doesn’t, he pulls him up, but gently.  He unlocks the door and steers Chris inside.  Turns on the light, but when Chris flinches, turns it off again.  

Chris hears him making his way slowly in the dark towards the floor lamp.  The light comes on, thankfully dim.

“Sit.”

Chris collapses on the couch.  He curls up on himself, hands over his face again.  “I’m sorry,” he finally says.  “Jesus fuck, I’m sorry.”  He’s pretty sure Zach is just going to leave, so when he feels him sit down next to him, Chris lets out a horrible choking noise.

“Please stop it,” Zach says, sounding tired.

Chris tries to pull it together.  After all, he’s the jerk here.  He’s not sure how much more time passes before Zach says, “Here’s the thing.  I’m not actually a mind-reader, Pine.”

With everything in him, Chris strangles off his sob.

Zach sighs.  “Could you just – sit up.  Please.”  With Zach’s help – and Chris hates himself that Zach has to help him – he pulls up so he’s sitting properly instead of half turned away, feet planted on the ground.  “You’re going to need to use your words,” Zach says.  “Christopher?”

Chris rubs his face and puts his hands down, looks straight ahead.  “I’m sorry,” he says again.  His voice is cracked.

“Yeah, I got that,” Zach says.  “What exactly are you apologizing for?”

Chris jerks his head around to look at him, can’t quite believe that Zach is actually asking something so dumb.  “For trying to hit you.”

“Okay,” Zach says.  “Okay.”  He rubs his hands down his jeans.  Then, unbelievably, he gives a laugh.  “I gotta tell you, that’s not really what I’m worried about right now.”  They look at each other.  Then Chris realizes.  Hears his own voice again.  

 _You fucking psychopath._

“Oh my God,” he says.  “No.  I didn’t mean it.”  He’s horrified at himself.  “No.  I didn’t – I’m sorry,” he says, desperately.  “I didn’t mean it.”  He sits up, reaches towards Zach’s face, but can’t touch him like he wants to.  His hand lands on Zach’s chest, over his heart.

Zach, finally, nods slowly.  He takes Chris’s hand, pulling it into both of his own.  “Okay.”

“I’ve _never_ thought that,” Chris says.  “ _Ever_.  I’m just – a complete _fucking idiot_.”

“Well,” Zach says, and now he’s the one who can’t look at Chris.  “Good to know.”  He holds Chris’s hand tight between his, and they both look at the blank television for a while.

“I'm sorry I told you to leave like that.  And I’m really sorry I hit you,” Zach says eventually.

“It was self defense.”

“Christopher, I need you to look at me.”  Zach looks unbearably serious.  “If you _ever_ take a swing at me again like that, we are done.  Okay?  It’s absolutely, one hundred percent, unacceptable and non-negotiable.”

Chris is kind of stuck on the fact that they’re not _already_ done.  Finally, he licks his dry lips.  “I can assure you, absolutely, one hundred percent, that I am _never_ going to do that again.”

“Especially between us now, we can’t blur the lines,” Zach says.  “There’s sadomasochism, and then there’s violence.  I will not put up with the latter.”

“I know,” Chris says, feeling awful.  “I understand.”  He really couldn’t hate himself more.

“And – please don’t ever call me a psychopath again,” Zach adds.  “That’s just mean.”  Chris feels something break inside himself.  “Hey,” Zach says, kind of alarmed.  “Don’t – don’t cry.”

Chris pulls his hand back from Zach’s, because he has to scrub at his face.  “I’m not crying,” he says shakily.  “I don’t cry.”

Zach gives him a minute.  Then he says, “The stuff that we do together can fuck with the mind sometimes.  Is that the problem?”

“No.”

Zach looks closely at him.  “I’m going to take you at your word.  But if that’s not the problem, I need to know what was going on back there.”

Chris tries to find a starting point, but all he can say is, “Anton called me Captain Spanky.”

Zach blinks.  “How about I make some guesses, and you can nod if I’m right.”  Chris nods.  Zach reflects, and then says, “You came over to see me, and I had a living room full of leathermen.  I can see how that would be kind of confronting.”

Chris nods again.

“And Anton sitting in the middle of it.  Were you – jealous?”  Another nod.  “Did you think I was playing with them?  With _Anton_?”  Chris looks at him mutely.

“I wasn’t,” Zach says.  “I didn’t even want those guys there.  They just – turned up.  Wondering where I was.  Because I haven’t been to the clubs in so long.  They were trying to get me to go out with them.”

“ _Anton_ goes to those clubs?” Chris asks, bewildered.

“Nah,” Zach says, and gives a small laugh.  “Anton was there because I asked him to be part of the next Before the Door thing.  We were going over a draft script.  He was pretty surprised when all these guys turned up at the door and started an impromptu party.  And then you.”

“What did he say afterwards?” Chris asks.

“I kind of had to tell him about what we’ve been doing.  Just a few details, nothing hardcore.  I’m sorry; I was shaken up.”  Zach gives a regretful smile.  “I guess everyone else will know now too.  Anton can’t keep that damn mouth shut.”

“The press,” Chris says.

But Zach shakes his head.  “He’s a blabbermouth, but he’s not _dumb_.  Plus he likes you, Chris.  He felt bad.  He wondered why you were mad at him.”  Chris finds, to his surprise, that he _can_ actually feel worse than he already does.

“I’ll have to call him,” he mutters.

Zach gets up and runs his fingers across the books on the shelf.  “The thing is,” he says.  “I’m not entirely sure what we _have_ been doing, Chris.  I know you didn’t want to talk about it.  But we have to set some parameters here.”

“Okay,” Chris agrees dully.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you don’t want me playing with anyone else.”  When Chris nods, he adds, “I haven’t, anyway.  Since – you.  Since Tokyo.”

“That’s a long time ago,” Chris says with surprise.  He looks up at Zach, but Zach is still looking at the books.

“Yeah.  So, what else, Christopher?”

“I want _you_ ,” Chris says, painfully.

“You _have_ me.”

“No,” Chris insists.  “I mean – Jesus, Zach.  I have _feelings_ for you.”  Chris has rarely felt so stupid and so inarticulate.

Zach stands very still.  “Oh,” he says, sounding – something.  Chris isn’t sure what.  Maybe surprised.  Maybe cautious.  “I didn’t realize,” he says carefully.

“Come on.  We both know you’re a smart guy,” Chris says.  “How could you not know?”

“You call me ‘buddy’ and ‘dude’ all the time,” Zach protests.  “And you – you slap my back when we hug,” he finishes, weakly.

Chris thinks back.  Okay, Zach has a point.  “Because we’re friends, too, whatever else we are,” he points out.  “What did you think I wanted?  I asked you that time, if we could ever be a thing.  You said maybe.”

“Yeah,” Zach says.  “I didn’t think you really meant it.  You never brought it up again.  Even when I asked you to talk about it more, to define things better.”

Chris drops his face into his hands again, cringing.  “I thought you were trying to break it off.”  He lifts his head.  “I guess not?”

“You,” Zach says, pointing at him, “are an idiot.”  Chris nods grimly.  “If I wanted to break things off, I would just say that.  I wouldn’t ask you to _define_ it.”

Chris asks tentatively, “Is that all you want?  I mean, just playing?”

Zach sits down again next to him on the couch with the biggest sigh Chris has ever heard him give.  “No,” he says finally.  “I like to play, but I also want something real.”  He turns to face Chris and puts his hand on his shoulder.  “Okay,” he says.  “Sorry, I’m a hypocrite.  Maybe I lied a bit before.  I _kind_ of knew how you felt.  Maybe I even hoped that was how you felt.  But I’ve never been in a relationship with a guy who is - like you.  A guy who is not gay.  So–”

“You think I’m _straight_?  Seriously?”

“No.  I think you’re you.  I _like_ that you’re you.  I just had to get over myself, I guess.”

Chris is feeling such an overwhelming sense of relief that he’s starting to hyperventilate.  “Jesus, calm down,” Zach says, concerned.  “Do you need a paper bag?”

“No,” Chris gasps.  “I just, I have to kiss you.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

Chris has never felt anything quite like right then, when his mouth closes over Zach’s, and he finds Zach is kissing him back.  His breathing starts to slow, mercifully.  He’s pretty sure Zach would prefer the kissing without the huffing, but Zach is only pulling him closer.

“Take me to bed,” Chris says against his mouth.  “I want you to hurt me.”

But Zach is shaking his head.  “Absolutely not.  Not tonight.”

In Chris’s mind, Zach just doesn’t get it.  “Yes.  I want you to.”

“No.”

“I deserve it.”

Zach pulls back.  “Yeah, that right there-”  He breaks off, cups a hand around Chris’s chin and looks him over.  “You’re already in pain.  It’s all over your face.”  _I guess you would know_ , Chris thinks.  _You’ve seen me like that often enough_.  Zach kisses him, so softly that it feels like a ghost’s kiss.  “Punishment – that’s not what the pain is for, not with us.  So stop asking.”

They stretch out on the couch, joined at the mouth, hands pulling at each other’s clothes.  Chris starts to feel safer, calmer, less like his world is tipping off its axis.

“I _will_ take you to bed, though,” Zach says after a while.  “Because make-up sex is inherently _awesome_.”

  
***

  
Zach is gentle with him, holding him down loosely, expecting Chris to be obedient: “Be a good boy for me.”  _And as if_ , Chris thinks, _I’m going to be anything but_.  He allows Chris to blow him, and Chris does the best job he’s done so far.  When Zach comes hard in his mouth – hands clenching in his hair, but not too rough – Chris finally feels like maybe he _can_ make things up to Zach.  Because despite the talking, he still has an uncertainty at the back of his mind.

“Don’t swallow it all yet,” Zach is panting.  “Kiss me.”  Chris obliges, and wonders again why Zach is so open to everything and he is so not.  

“Stop thinking,” Zach tells him after a while.  “I swear to God, I can hear your mind ticking over like a time bomb.”

“Sorry,” Chris says.  

“I _know_ you are,” Zach sighs.  “You keep saying so.”  He pushes Chris back on the bed and slides his long body over him.  They have become comfortable with each other over the months, so much that Chris missed the warmth and the just-right pressure of having Zach on him when he was in Ohio.  “You don’t feel right,” he says to Chris, wrinkling his nose.  “What’s wrong?”

“I wanted to hurt you,” Chris says.  “And I did.”  He traces his fingers over the bruise he left from poking Zach in the chest.

“Yes.  But we’re good.”

“Yeah.  But – what if I’m like you?”  Chris finally finds a voice for his concern.  “What if I really prefer hurting instead of being hurt?”

Zach, to his credit, doesn’t take offence.  “Christopher, I don’t talk a lot about why I do the things I do, because I don’t totally understand them myself.  But I can guarantee you that you are _not_ like me.  You got angry at me; you wanted to hurt me because you were hurt.  That’s just normal human behavior.”  He takes hold of Chris’s cock, which has gone half-soft with his worries.  Starts to coax it back.  Sucks on his neck.  “You didn’t get any kind of sexual satisfaction out of it, did you?”

Chris tries to think about it, but Zach is really starting to make him feel good.  He has a flash of that horrible happy feeling when he remembers what he said, but it didn’t feel good really, and it’s nowhere near this.  Nowhere on the spectrum.  “No,” he says.  “No.  I do when _you_ hurt _me_ , though,” he adds.

“So we’re a good fit,” Zach says, and starts kissing down Chris’s chest.  “I want you to come for me,” he says, muffled.  Chris feels his skin prickle all over.

“I have no objections to tha-” he says, cutting off with a groan as Zach teethes his nipple.  “Bite me?  Please?” he asks.

“I’ll bite you because it feels good for you.  And for me.  But not to punish you.”

“That’s fine, that’s fine, that’s fine,” Chris babbles.  He really doesn’t care right now.  All he knows is that Zach has managed to create a Pavlovian connection between biting and coming.

When Zach delicately closes his teeth on Chris’s flesh, biting gently into his chest, Chris bucks up.  His cock jumps in Zach’s hand and he hears Zach make a low noise in return.  “Oh, God,” Chris says.  Then Zach is nipping at him, barely even painful, like happy little pinpricks, not that Chris has ever enjoyed pinpricks, but from _Zach_ , it’s different–

“I think,” is all Chris has time to say before he starts to come in short, frantic bursts.  Zach, somehow, has locked his mouth over his dick and uses his tongue roughly to encourage.

  
***

  
“So,” Chris says later, once they’ve exhausted the make-up sex.  “Do you think I’m a masochist?” he asks.

“Always have to have a term for everything,” Zach murmurs.  “Can’t you just be a Christopher?”

“Can’t I just be yours?” Chris asks.

Zach kisses him over the bite marks he’s left, both today and for weeks now.  Most of them are pale yellow; a few still red or brown.  Today’s have started to come up, pink and blotchy.  “Yeah,” he says.  “If that’s what you want.”  He looks at Chris, his eyes unreadable, and Chris feels like he’s not telling everything.

"Do you want that?" he asks.  Zach nods.

"Yes.  Yes, I do want that."

“So you’ll be my boyfriend?” he asks again, with a big, stupid grin.  Zach laughs.

“Yeah.  I’ll even go to prom with you.”

When they are settling to sleep, Chris can’t help thinking back over the last few hours.  He relives his failed punch at Zach in his mind, wincing.  Feels his stomach muscles contract with the memory of Zach’s sharp blow.  “How did you block me so easy?” he asks out of nowhere.  “Do you have crazy Matrix skills, or what?”

“Christopher,” Zach mumbles.  His face is buried into the pillow.  “You were only looking at two things in that room.  Me, and the hole in the wall.  Didn’t take a genius to figure out your thought process.”

“Why do you even keep that damn hole?” Chris grumbles, kicking around in the bed sheets.  “What’s it supposed to remind you of, the fact that I can’t control my temper?”

“No,” Zach says, clearer now, sounding surprised.  “It’s a reminder to me that I need to be careful of your emotions.”  They both think about that for a minute.  “Admittedly, it might not be working very well.”

“I’m glad I didn’t manage to hit you.  I don’t know if I could handle knowing that you’re not infallible.”

“Well, get ready for disappointment,” Zach snorts.  Chris feels his happiness start to creep back.  He twines his fingers into Zach’s.  “You still punch like a Muppet,” Zach says sleepily into the pillow.  “FYI.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Sorry.”  They lie silent, content.  Zach says, “Come on.  It was a little bit funny.”

Chris chuckles, despite himself.


End file.
